Liberty Reloaded
by Docta Luv
Summary: This story takes place one month after the events of GTA III. Portland is on the brink of a massive gang war, and the rest of the city isn't much better off.
1. The Meeting

Liberty Reloaded

**A/N: I do not own GTA or any of its characters; however, Gino De Luca, Sergio Moretti, and Renzo Mancini are my creations. Well folks, this is my first fan fic. I'm going to keep it short and sweet this time 'round. R & R, and enjoy!**

Night has fallen in Liberty City. Weather reports indicate there could be two feet of snow by morning. Weather was the least of Joey Leone's worries.

"Listen men. We need to face facts here. We are no longer in control of Portland!" He said. Joey had called an emergency meeting for the senior members of the Mafia at the Gentlemen's Club. The gang was in a sorry state. Ever since his father, the late Salvatore Leone, had tried to whack the mystery man that had worked for them a month ago, nothing went right. Salvatore was assassinated coming out of Luigi's Sex Club 7, and it was now Joey's responsibility to handle the business. He hadn't taken to it quite like his father had, that's for sure. Joey didn't exactly look the part like his father did either. He had gotten out of his greasy jumpsuit, but he looked very awkward in his black suit. He had his hair, pure black, gelled back with a few strands here and there that refused to go down. He looked like he just got out of the shower the way he was sweating so much.

"That's BS, Joey. We may not have our rivals by the balls like we used to, but that ain't to say we don't have any power!" Tony Cipriani was pissed. The Mafia just isn't what it used to be, he thought, now that they got the kid running the show. Salvatore was a sage, a wise man ahead of his time; Joey was just a naïve kid.

Tony isn't what you would call your average mobster or your average anything, for that matter. He had his usual purple suit on with a little gold bling around his neck. He had his gray black hair gelled to within an inch of its life, and he had on black pants and black shoes.

"Drink anyone?" The butler asked.

"Yeah, get me some coffee, I've had too much of the hard stuff," Joey replied.

"Beer me, would you?" Tony asked.

"Anyone else?" The butler asked.

"Yeah, I'll take a scotch on the rocks, and get these three another round," Luigi answered. Luigi may not exactly have been what you would call a mobster, but he was good for the business by giving the men a place to crash. Luigi looked classy in his black suit, he never wore anything else. If it cost a lot of money to wear, Luigi had it. Top design everything for this guy.

"Yeah, a beer sounds pretty good, Luigi," Sergio said. Sergio Moretti was a big guy. He's 6 feet 3 inches and 275 pounds. Recently, his hair has begun to bald on the top and what he has left is starting to gray. You'll never find him out of one of his tacky Hawaiian shirts. As for what he does, he's the Mafia's war lord. If there's a battle going down, Sergio's in control. He's ex-military, so you can bet he knows a thing or two about strategy. Sergio is the best friend a guy could have, and the worst enemy a guy could ask for. That, of course, is why the Mafia befriended him.

To Sergio's right was Gino De Luca. Gino was the treasurer for the Mafia. He's old, 65 years old to be exact, which makes him the oldest member of the Mafia. If you're in the Mafia and you made some green, a cut went to him. Gino was also the brains of the operation. Joey was to naïve to really understand the way things work in Liberty, so Gino was always there to make sure he didn't lead the Mafia right off a cliff. Renzo was sporting his usual brown suit and a bowler hat to cover up his baldness.

"Hey! Can we get that beer or what?" Renzo demanded. Renzo Mancini was the exact opposite of Gino. While Gino was more cool, collected, and soft-spoken, Renzo was loud and obnoxious. Renzo dresses as loud as he talks. He, like Sergio, can't resist a bright Hawaiian shirt. However, he actually still had all of his hair. It was black, and he always had it neatly combed to the side. Renzo was the weapons master of the Mafia. If you needed a piece before you went to paint the town, he's the guy you talked to.

"There you are, sir." The butler said, with a hint of annoyance. "Will that be all, gentlemen?"

"Yes, that will be all." Joey answered. "Okay, now back to business gentlemen. What do you say we do about it?"

"Well, we need to start attacking instead of waiting for them to come to us all the time," Sergio answered.

"Yeah, we need to make a huge hit against those damn Triads!" Tony exclaimed.

"But Tony, it ain't just the Triads giving us problems anymore. The Diablos are getting sick of us too, and they're starting to show it!" Luigi answered. "Just last night they sprayed graffiti all over my club!"

"Okay then, it's settled. We'll start an offensive tomorrow that'll hopefully keep them off our backs," Joey stated.

"But Joey, you got to remember once we retaliate, there's no going back. It'll be war!" Gino cried.

"We have no other choice, Gino. Either we get them or they get us. Thank you all for coming tonight. This meeting's adjourned."


	2. Old Buddies

**A/N: Well, hope you liked the first chapter. This next chapter may seem a little far-fetched, but it'll make for MUCH easier writing later on. Just incase you haven't had the opportunity to play San Andreas; Claude Speed is the main character from GTA 3. The first couple of chapters are just plot, the juicy stuff gets going next chapter. Well anyhow, enjoy!**

8-Ball woke up on his couch at 9:30. He had the best sleep he had had in the past month. For a while he actually forgot about his fear that the mystery man would come back to his shop and finish him off. It was 8-Ball who supplied the bomb that was supposed to finish him off after all. It didn't take a genius to figure out who made it seeing as there was only one man who did that kind of thing in all of Liberty! But 8-Ball had always hoped that somehow the man knew 8-Ball didn't do it by choice. When you live in Mafia territory and they tell you to do something, you do it; especially if the mobsters had implied that if their demands weren't met 8-Ball would be in the latest fashion of cement shoes. 8-Ball was brought back to the present when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello, 8-Ball. This is Claude Speed."

"This is who?"

"I'm Claude Speed. You might not recognize my voice. That may be because the last time I saw you I didn't have one."

"What?"

"I'm the one you escaped prison with, I'm the one who helped you blow up the boat, and I'm also the one you tried to kill with one of your bombs!"

"Wait wait wait, man! I can explain it man, you know I can!"

"Ok. I'll let you explain. I'm just outside your door right now anyway."

"Ok man, just chill out."

8-Ball was a nervous wreck now. Of all the people to have in his house right now, he was pretty low on the list.

"Ok man, come on in," 8-Ball said.

Claude showed himself into the house. He took a seat on the couch. Things look a little different around here, he thought to himself.

"So, you can talk now?" 8-Ball asked.

"Yes I can. I had some surgery done about two weeks ago."

"So what brings you here?"

"Revenge. But you said you had an explanation?"

"Yes I do," 8-Ball said. He then told Claude about the Mafia men threatening him and everything else.

"Oh, I see."

"So you believe me?" 8-Ball was really hoping he did.

"Well, I suppose I believe you."

"I tried to page you when they called and told me you were heading to the car, but I got a busy signal!"

"That was Maria warning me about the car," Claude said.

"Well that's good. So we cool now?"

"Yeah, we cool," Claude answered.

"That's great. So how things been lately?"

"Things haven't been going very well, actually. Incase you haven't heard, that bitch Catalina's dead, thanks to yours truly. She's the one that put me in the sorry state to begin with you know. Took two shots right in the throat after we robbed a bank. Apparently I wasn't good enough for her anymore."

"My God, what an asshole!" 8-Ball exclaimed.

"Yeah, there's no doubt about that, but on to the bad stuff. I'm just one man! I got no influence, no power. I just have a girl who spends money twice as quickly as I can earn it!"

"That must be pretty rough."

"You bet it is! But what're you gonna do?"

"Well, Claude, I can't help you with your women, but I can help you with the influence and power."

"What are you proposing?" Claude asked, very intrigued.

"You and I could paint the town red with the blood of our enemies man! There's no stopping us! You're a damn mass murderer, and I'm a bombs expert! No one can touch us!"

"You know what? Let's go for it," Claude replied. Now that he had an ally, there's no telling what they're going to accomplish together, he thought.

"Where should we start?" 8-Ball inquired.

"Well, there are still remnants of the Columbian Cartel left in Staunton and Shoreside. We should definitely start there."

"Okay then. Now, when should we start?"

"We'll get going tomorrow. As for today, think of ways we could take them out without putting ourselves in too much danger," Claude said.

"Okay, sounds good to me."

"I suppose I should get home now; don't want the Maria worrying about me."

"Okay man, see you later."


	3. No Turning Back

**A/N: Well, another chapter, another random dialogue meeting? Wrong! Well, it's come to my attention that my work tends to get kind of short. I admit that. I look at some of those pieces and there like 3000 words a chapter. I'll do my best to keep around 1000, but if I go less, whatever. That's just because there wasn't so much to tell in the particular chapter. Enjoy!**

Sergio Moretti was hard at work when he got home from the meeting. He wanted a battle plan that would absolutely wreak havoc upon those idiots in Hepburn and Chinatown. When Sergio was first hired by the Mafia as their warlord, he had to teach himself that gang wars are far different from the military battles he had led. It wasn't just about defeating the opponent; it was about making them look like shit and causing as much property damage as possible. So, he devised an ingenious plan that would destroy as much of Hepburn Heights. When devising a plan such as this, you had to figure that eventually your lines are going to be broken; you can't just send your best men to the far side of town all day and have them doing crap. So, they'd just pick at them bit by bit until there was nothing left. Would it take long, yes! Would it be a safe plan, no! Would it be a successful plan? If you didn't think so you should be shot, Sergio thought.

As for the plan itself, Sergio was going to need only twenty men. He'd divide those twenty men into five groups of four men. Each of them would get a Mafia Sentinel and whatever weaponry they would need. He'd use three of the five groups for some classic drive-by action. He'd use the remaining two groups to do property damage. If there was something that belonged to the Diablos, it was going to get smashed. Of course, they would get weapons too, incase things got a little ugly. After approximately one hour of doing whatever they could, the five groups would fall back to Saint Marks and wait for any retaliation.

"Perfect!" Sergio exclaimed.

In the morning, Sergio showed Joey the plan over breakfast at Saint Mark's Bistro.

"It's beautiful Sergio! This is a sure bet for success. I don't know what we'd do without you!" Joey exclaimed.

"I thought you'd like it. I think we should get started as soon as possible, so we better find twenty men willing to do this assignment."

"Don't worry, Sergio. I think this is an assignment that nobody will have a problem taking."

Joey and Sergio then went down into the main dining area of the restaurant to look for the right kind of people to do the job.

"Hey, look over there, Sergio. What about the three Angelo brothers?"

"The Angelo brothers? You seriously think those to meatheads are even capable of handling a 'Ma and Pa' store robbery? I wouldn't trust them to drive me down the street in my own territory!"

"Well then, what are they doing here if they're incompetent?" Joey asked, very annoyed that Sergio snapped at him like that.

"It's a favor to my cousin. Listen, they're better with guns then they are with brains, that's all."

"Well then, Sergio, how about we get them a really good driver so they can do some damage?"

"Yes, that'd work. Who are we gonna use to drive?"

"Get Amoretti. He's good with cars," Joey suggested.

"Ok, that'll work. Hey, you three, get over here would ya?"

The three brothers got up from their booth and walked over to Sergio and Joey. The three were Antonio, Simone, and Marco.

"Hey boss, what's up?" Marco asked.

"Well boys, we have a job for you. We're going to do a full-out assault on some Diablo turf today, and we need you as gunners," Sergio stated.

"Who's driving us?" Simone asked.

"That would be Gianni Amoretti," Joey said.

"Oh, Amoretti. He's the best!" Simone exclaimed.

"Yep. He'll get you to where you need to be to pop as many of those bastards as possible. Well men, meet back here in an hour where you'll receive instructions. Until then, get yourselves ready and get some supplies from Renzo," Sergio added.

Sergio and Joey then went around the usual Mafia hangouts to find the other sixteen men they needed. Meanwhile, the Angelo brothers paid Renzo Mancini a visit.

"Hello boys, what can I do for you today?" Renzo asked, polishing a 12-gauge.

"Well, the three of us are going to be working on some Diablo scum sacks today, so we need some weaponry," Antonio answered.

"Heh, no problem there. Let's see here…ah! I got the perfect set. For you Antonio, a 9mm pistol. And I know how much you love your automatics, so an AK47 should do the trick also."

"Thank you."

"No problem. As for you Simone, two Tec-9s."

"Just what the doctor ordered," he answered.

"Ha! Now, Marco…Marco. An MP5 and a Colt Python."

"Perfect, you never let me down Renzo."

"Don't mention it. Just kill some of those shit heads for me will you?"

"We will, don't worry."

After all of the twenty men had been given there assignments and had gone to see Renzo for some weaponry, they went to where Joey and Sergio had told them to meet.

"Okay, you already know the groups you're in, now you just need to know what you're gonna do and where you're gonna do it. Now squadron one, that's Diamante's group, you will go down the block from the Bistro and hang the first left that's in their territory and clear out the area. Then you will spend some time doing property damage. Squadron two, that's Amoretti's group, you will go one road past them and spend your time solely on eliminating Diablos. Squadron three, Ludovico's group, will go one road past squadron two, except you will come from the complete other side that they are. You must go out past the gas station and then go down the third street of Diablo's turf. Squadrons four and five, Carmelo and Valentino's group will go the same route as Ludovico, but once you reach the park spread out to cover a lot of ground. Once you fire the first shot, you have 45 minutes to get back into our territory incase they retaliate and sneak past you. Not to say that we won't have any kind of patrol set up, it's just that you're our best men and it'd be good if you all made it back here! Now head out!"

The twenty men entered there Mafia Sentinels and headed off in there designated directions. It didn't take the first group long at all to get to there location.

"Okay boys, everybody loaded up?" Diamante asked.

"Yep, we're all good," Roberto answered for the group.

"Then it's show time."

Diamante turned the corner and activated the sunroof. They found a group of about eight gangsters smoking some weed and playing what looked like backyard craps in an alley, so Diamante sped up and did a quick turn around. He rolled down the side windows as the two on the right stuck their guns out. Roberto got his torso above the sunroof and fired a single shot which hit one of the dice.

"What the?" That was as far as the Diablo got. The three men opened fire and eliminated the eight Diablo's before any of them could draw their guns.

"That was too easy," Diamante said wearily.

"You're right. Look out at 2 o'clock!"

A Diablo Stallion was racing towards them at break-neck speed. Diamante floored the acceleration and the Stallion went safely by. Well, safely for Diamante anyway. The Stallion crashed through the window of a business and got stuck, exposing their gas tank. Roberto let out a spray of bullets, one of which hitting the gas tank causing the car and the store to go up in flames.

"Way to go idiot! There'll be firemen all over this place now!" Diamante yelled.

"Then let's just go down the street," Roberto suggested.

"Whatever."

The Diablo's were now somewhat alerted to the presence of enemy gang members, making things slightly more difficult for the other groups. The second squadron, for example, had just turned the corner on their designated road when they heard the explosion.

"Oh great!" Simone yelled.

"Don't worry about it, we'll go on with our business," Amoretti turned around to say.

"Amoretti!"

"What?"

"Stallion!"

Amoretti turned the corner just in time to see a Diablo Stallion no more twenty feet away.

"Oh no."

Crash!


	4. Desperate Times

**A/N: The 'dramatic' conclusion of the first attack. I really hope you guys are enjoying this. I try as hard as I can to make this good. I don't own GTA, blah blah blah, but I did create Marcus Williamson, Darien Jones, and Jamal Donald. Enjoy!**

"AAHHHH!" Simone yelled. Amoretti had done his best to avoid the Stallion, but the Sentinel got nailed regardless. He had swerved to the left, avoiding a head-on collision, but the Stallion had spun them out, sending them onto the sidewalk. They flipped when they hit the curb and flew into a vacant building that had glass all around it.

"Everybody alright?" Amoretti asked. "I am so sorry guys. I should have been watching the road."

"You're sure as hell right you should have been watching the road you son of a bitch!" Antonio yelled. His forearm had folded in half like a book trying to brace himself.

"Hey man, I'm sorry. Listen, worry about this shit later. For right now, we have to worry about getting out of here," Amoretti stated.

"Yeah, whatever. Let's get going," Marco said. He had messed up his leg in the crash.

"Diablos at 9 o'clock!"

Simone dove to the side and took out his duel Tec-9's. He unloaded 12 shots into the Diablos that had wrecked them.

"Oh shit! Triads have entered the mix!" Antonio yelled. With his one good arm, he began spraying fire with his AK47. Normally, you would think the kick would be too much for one hand, but Antonio was as buff as they came. He eliminated the small group of five.

"Are you all good to run?" Amoretti asked.

"Yeah, I suppose," Antonio answered.

"I'm good," Simone said.

"I don't know about me. I got some nasty pains in my right leg. Oh forget it! I'll live through it; we just gotta get out of here!" Marco cried.

"Ok, screw the assignment. Let's just get back to the Bistro," Antonio requested.

"No problems here, let's go," Amoretti said. The four of them then began there trek back towards Saint Mark's.

"Here we go boys, this is the heart of the Diablo's turf," Ludovico chimed.

"Let's get to it, man!" Tony Punchinello exclaimed.

Ludovico floored it around the corner and drove along the sidewalk, running over six Diablos. Then he let the gunmen take care of the rest. The three blew through everything that moved. The group made a little detour and drove by Luigi's to see a group of Diablos vandalizing his club.

"Get 'em boys!" Ludovico yelled.

"With pleasure, boss," Tony replied.

The men waited until they had a clear shot, and then they blasted the group into smithereens.

"Ha ha ha! Well guys, let's get us some more Diablo scum," Ludovico chuckled as he drove around the block.

"What the fuck is this bullshit!" Marcus Williamson exploded. "My god damn hood is being ripped to shreds by those Italian bastards!" Marcus was the second in command of the Diablos. El Burro was currently out of town with 'business concerns', as he had put it to Marcus. 'More like taking a vacation to get some action, damn fat ass,' he thought when he heard. But he didn't mind. He liked being in control of things for a while. But what he didn't like was the Mafia coming in and catching them with their pants down. He stood watching the mayhem from the top floor of his apartment building.

"What do you want to do about it man?" Darien Jones asked. He was starting to get pretty sick of Marcus's short fuse. However this time he had a reason to go ballistic.

"I want to get our boys organized and ready to deal with this shit!" Marcus yelled.

"Okay man, I'll call up some of the homies and send them off. How many you need?" Jamal Donald asked. Jamal was the most laid back of the senior members of the Diablos. He just didn't really see the need to get all worked up about some crackers coming in and thinking they're tough.

"I need as many as you can get your hands on!" Marcus shouted.

"No problem man. I'll get twenty on the street in five."

"Good!"

Jamal kept his word. In four minutes and forty-seven seconds there were twenty-four men in six Stallions ready to roll.

"Ok dude, let's roll!" Tyrone Jackson shouted. He was one of the Diablo's best gunners. If you needed something or someone taken care of, you sent him.

"Hell yeah!" Dan Jones yelled back. He was the driver for Tyrone's car.

The Stallion went chasing out after the Mafia men. Before long, it caught up to one of the cars…the one with Ludovico in it.

"Eat lead mo-fo's!" Tyrone yelled as he sprayed the Sentinel with his Tec-9.

"Ah fu-!" That was all Ludovico yelled as he lost control and sent his Sentinel barreling into the shop on the corner. The car erupted in flame as Dan fled off.

"One down bitches! Hahaha!"

Amoretti and his crew arrived back at the Bistro defeated and sore. Joey and Renzo saw the battered crew limping in.

"What the hell happened to you four?"

"We got into a little accident. A Diablo car rammed us head-on," Simone replied.

"Those sons of bitches! Did you see any other groups?"

"Well, we heard a huge explosion when we were about a block away. I don't know if it was good for us or bad for us though," Marco chimed in.

"Well, obviously the Diablo's know we're in their turf, I think it's time to call off the operation. Renzo?"

"Yeah boss."

"Send out an APB to the remaining groups. Tell them to get back here. Continuing will be useless. We don't have the element of surprise anymore."

"No problem boss."

"They're retreating!" Jamal exclaimed. "Should we send our boys after to finish them off?"

"Hell no man! We'll regroup, come up with our own plan on getting these assholes back, and then we'll finish them off. For now, call this show off," Marcus replied.

"Okay man." Jamal called all of the drivers and had them come back to the apartment building so they could meet.

"First of all, I'd like to say great job to you guys. We really showed those assholes who's boss! Now, we got to get down to business here so we can take it to them monkeys! Now, I'm thinking that our best plan of action is to wait a couple of days. Always be on alert to head off any attack, but don't go attacking them. Right when they start to relax, BAM! We hit them with all we got. Okay?"

There was a collective cheer from the gangsters.

"Good. Now go back to whatever recreating you were doin' before."

"We have everyone back yet?" Joey asked.

"No, Joey. We're missing Ludovico's group," Renzo responded.

"Well, give them a holler then!"

"Got it. Hey, Ludovico. Ludovico? Man, all I got is static!"

"Hey, that explosion we heard must have been Ludovico's car going into flames!" Marco exclaimed. There was a moment of silence where everyone understood that that was indeed the case. Joey broke it.

"Those assholes! They're gonna regret the day they fucked with Joey Leone! We're gonna get them back, and we're gonna get them back hard! By the time I'm done, there won't be a single one of those assholes left!"

"Joey, why so much anger about these guys? We got our guys getting popped daily!" Renzo inquired.

"Not like this. Ludovico was one of my pop's favorites. Treated him like a second son. And he was like a real brother to me! And now he's dead! But, he won't have died in vain. The Diablos are going down!"


	5. The Drug Deal

**A/N: I do not own any of these characters except for those who have not previously appeared in the GTA Series, such and such and blah blah blah. Well folks, after a LONG hiatus, I have decided to return to the story. I feel like what I have planned for the story is worth publishing, so here it goes. Sorry for keeping people who were interested in this story waiting, but hopefully I can make it up to you. So, without further ado…**

Claude Speed was deep in thought. He had decimated the Cartel not too long ago, but so much remained to be done. He had a vague idea of how he could finish them once and for all, but for him and 8-Ball to get to that point, there was a lot of work to do.

"Hey, 8-Ball, you ready to go?" Claude asked over the phone.

"Yeah man, sure."

"Alright, I'll be right over."

Claude had taken up residence in his old Staunton Island hideout. It was easily the safest location, far away from the Mafia and from the warring gangs on Shoreside. It was a bit of a risk going over to 8-Ball's like he was, seeing as he would have to venture into Mafia territory to get there, but he didn't have much of a choice. He went to his garage, spotted his favorite green Banshee, got in, and drove away.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the bomb shop.

"Hey man, what's going on? What's the plan?" 8-Ball asked.

"I got some info that I think we could take advantage of."

"Cool, let's hear it."

"Alright, the Cartel got a new shipment of drugs coming in today. Apparently they're getting some new shit from South America that makes their old favorite, SPANK, look like a healthy alternative. The drugs are going to make landfall at Escobar International, where there will be no Cartel presence."

"Ahh, I think I see where you're going with this."

"So, all we have to do is whack a couple of the transporters, load up the drugs with explosives, deliver to the Cartel, and drive away."

"Alright, I think I got just the right stuff for this job," 8-Ball smirked. He went to the back room and came back with a briefcase. He opened it up towards Claude, who couldn't help but grin. Four state of the art remote mines with detonators were lying before him, just waiting to be used.

"Yeah, I think this will do just fine. Are you good to handle a piece? I see the bandages are off your hands," Claude inquired.

"Yeah man, I got a little pain here and there, but it's cool."

"Ok then. Just incase things get ugly I figure it'd be best if we had two shooters, instead of just one."

"Don't I know it," 8-Ball laughed.

"Let's get a move on, the stuff will be at Escobar in a couple of hours."

8-Ball and Claude arrived at Escobar ahead of schedule, much to their advantage. They parked 8-Ball's van behind one of the hangars, and then went around to the front of the hangar where they'd be able to see what was happening. A few moments later, a black van came roaring past and stopped at the end of one of the shorter runways.

"Alright, there are our transporters. Let's do this quick," 8-Ball whispered.

"No problem," Claude replied with a smirk as he took out his trusty sniper rifle.

"Is that the same one you used on our little adventure at the docks?"

"The very same. I thought I'd bring it along for sentimental purposes."

"Man, you are full of shit," 8-Ball laughed.

* * *

"Late, as always," Domingo Garcia sighed as he sat in the van with his arms crossed. As the transporter of many drug shipments, tardiness was one of his pet peeves, and it seemed that every deal he had made had always taken place at least fifteen minutes after it was supposed to.

"What are you gonna do, you know? We get paid just the same," Javier Sanchez replied. "The last thing we need is to have a drug deal go south because you decided to give a lecture on timeliness."

"Yeah, whatev—" Domingo was cut off mid-sentence by the bullet that tore through his skull. And before Javier could even turn his head, he took a bullet straight to his forehead.

"Alright, let's get moving," Claude said. The two ran to 8-Ball's van and drove up. After taking the drug money from the back of the black van and placing it in 8-Ball's van, Claude quickly got into the corpse-filled van and hid it in the hangar where they just were. He then ran back and got in 8-Ball's van, which was now sitting at the end of the runway, ready to take the drugs. After a few minutes, the plane they were waiting for was finally visible, and began its landing. When it landed, a group of people walked off the plane with briefcases. Without any hesitation, all of the men went straight for the back of the van. They opened it up, placed the drugs in, walked away with the briefcases filled with money, and after looking their new cargo over, got on the plane and flew away.

"What the fuck kind of drug deal was that?" 8-Ball asked.

"I'm not sure, but it's definitely a kind that I like," Claude replied.

"No doubt, man. Alright, let's get started on these explosives."

The two men went to the back, opened up the briefcases and planted the explosives. After they got back into the van, this time with Claude as the driver, they drove off.

"So where's this shit going anyway?" 8-Ball asked.

"We're going to the residential part of Shoreside to the Cartel's main manor. There will be a lot of their men there, so if we do this right, we'll take out a good portion of their forces."

"And if we do this wrong?"

"I've already escaped from there once. I figure I can do it again."

"Great thinking, Claude, you really got shit figured out…" 8-Ball said as he rolled his eyes.

By this point, they had exited the airport. They had just made a left turn onto the main drag when Claude spotted flashing lights in his mirror.

"PLEASE PULL OVER IMMEDIATELY!"

"Damn cops! Should I pull over? I can't exactly lead these pigs to the delivery point," Claude said, through gritted teeth.

"Have you once stopped for a cop in your entire time in Liberty?"

"Nope."

"Then fuck 'em! Drive!"

"Here we go!" Claude yelled as he floored the gas pedal. As he headed straight toward the rickety old dock that now served as a ramp over the river, he wondered for a half of a second whether or not the weight of the vehicle would cause them to fall short, but then he just shrugged it off. There wasn't much else to do about it, so he just pressed down on the gas even harder. He was up to about 65 mph when he went onto the grass and about 70 mph when he first felt wood underneath his tires. He could see the dock collapsing behind him as the van was flying over the river. He just had time to see the pursuing cop car flip into the river before he was jolted forward into the steering wheel. The landing was a little rougher than he had anticipated, but they were still moving at least.

"Dude, I appreciate that you lost our tail, but if you ever pull any of that 'Dukes of Hazzard' bull shit again, I'll fucking kill you," 8-Ball said.

"Fair enough," Claude sighed, as he rubbed his neck.

After winding through the lower residential areas, they ended up at the gates of the Cartel manor. After being waved through, Claude turned to 8-Ball.

"You better be the one delivering this stuff. They'll probably recognize me if I get out."

"You're just lucky this thing is heavily tinted, otherwise we'd be dead already."

The van came to a stop right in front of the house, and 8-Ball got out. He walked around to the back and opened up the doors. As he did this, eight Cartel members joined him.

"Here you go. Just what the doctor ordered," 8-Ball said with a smile on his face as he unloaded the last of the briefcases onto the ground.

"So, who are you supposed to be, asshole? Javier or Domingo?" The Cartel member asked, which caused 8-Ball's smile to fade pretty fast.

"DRIVE!!" 8-Ball shouted as he dove into the back of the van, pulling out his Uzi and firing rounds like a madman. Claude immediately began peeling out, sending rocks and dust at the Cartel. With his clip empty, 8-Ball pulled out the only weapon he had left, his detonator. Forgetting that they were only forty feet from the drugs, 8-Ball pushed the button. A deafening explosion occurred, which nearly caused Claude to lose control. Just as the patrol was attempting to close the gates, Claude raced through and made a hard left. Before he knew it, he had two Cartel Cruisers hitting him from behind and from the left. There was only one place for him, 8-Ball and the van to go, and that was off a 200 foot drop into the ocean.


End file.
